Miss Ravanel says she will come to Lee to visit me. She hasn’t been anywhere for twelve years, except to Charleston now and then, and sometimes to a distant neighbor’s. I want her to come and show my mountain women how to make blue and white work. It is a kind of embroidery and lace combined, made on a linen base. She says she will. Isn’t she a dear? I hope you’ll not mind her wrinkles and think her old. She looks a little old, but she’s really very young, judged by the things that count. Well, she has given me encouragement and tea and sponge cake and this beautiful promise to come and visit me in what she calls my exile. Exile! In Lee! Near you and all the others I love best. The only drawback to the whole thing will be seeing somebody else’s house go up on my treasured building site. I do hope to goodness that whoever is building it will put up a charming house. I couldn’t stand it to see an ugly one there. I’m writing this while Miss Delight is down contracting with a man for six live turkeys. I can’t imagine what she is going to do with them. How could she eat them all by herself, or even with her servants to help? There are only two and neither has any teeth to speak of. Perhaps she likes to hear turkeys gobble. I agree with her that it is a cheerful sound. Well, she is returning. Farewell. I will have Miss Ravanel’s man mail this letter for me. _Excitedly and rather fearfully_, _Azalea_. * * * * * Mallowbanks, November 18. _My Carin_: It is done, my dear, it is done. I am free. And the getting of the freedom has not been so terrible as I feared it would be.